Author's Note: Updates are "Torrent Company Thursdays" ;)

Mando'a Translation [I think it's the only phrase I use in the whole story - go figure :p]

Nu'draar = The most emphatic denial in all of the Mando'a language, it literally means "Not Ever". I liken it to the English saying of "Over my dead body"

Mission Day One

Insertion into the city without a name went off without a hitch. It was a rough city, in the less populated areas of Ord Mantell, housing mostly temporary workers and toughs, a wild place that catered to the rougher elements of society and their passions. Gaming hells, halls and taverns abounded; burlesque entertainments, dance halls and brothels creating a core that was as seedy as anything Coruscant could provide in its lowest levels.

Illegal entertainment practically fueled the economy, with law and order more whispers of mention than actual pillars of society.

It was the antithesis of everything Rex had been raised on; a world so foreign, all his research had provided him with very little in the way of actual assistance when it came to anything beyond attitude and language, leaving the ambiguous moral code of the underworlders completely to his imagination until he got some proper exposure.

So it was that Rex found himself and Ahsoka, dressed in the brown half robes of the typical traveler, reporting to the coordinates sent to them as they'd landed. Their information was being relayed in steps, as noted on the datapad provided from General Kenobi, a special chip within the hardware allowing it to accurately judge when an objective, location wise, had been accomplished.

Entering the city without a name had been one such marker and new instructions were uploaded to the datapad. Stepping away from the port where the Twlight had dropped them, they paused outside the door to check the soft dingthat heralded new information.

Rex, the keeper of the datapad, pulled it out and flipped it on, an address appearing on the screen. Ahsoka, standing opposite him gave him a curious look. "An address," he reported, reading it through twice. He felt her eyes on his face, rereading the instruction again, his jaw tightening. "And directions; to our room."

This mission was just getting worse and worse.

First, Skywalker had managed to land himself in bacta, relaying the mission itself to his second in command - which meant him. Second, he'd learned he would have to play the role of an underworld thug. That he could do; what he hadn't expected the role to entail was attempting to 'sell' Ahsoka's sexual favors - his gut twisted with the thought, an immediate, over my dead body, response popping immediately to mind - or pretending to partake of them.

Lastly, he'd learned exactly what Republic Intelligence - and he had some thoughts about that he couldn't voice - expected Ahsoka to do to obtain the information they needed; every fiber of his being rebelled against it. Excuses why she shouldn't have even been considered for this mission numbered in the dozens; the hundreds - yet it all came down to one thing.

Experience was everything.

He'd told her that once and now it had come back on him.

Ahsoka's handling of herself in the field had been noted, commended and rewarded- he was going to have to speak with someone about that too - with a mission that wasn't only dangerous and difficult, but blacklisted. Someone of her caliber was needed and that someone proved to be her.

In other circumstances, he supposed she could have been flattered, possibly even overjoyed, by the recognition... except in this instance, she was being asked to do something no teenager should ever be. By Rex's way of thinking, the di'kut's at GAR Intelligence needed to have their heads examined.

And now this.

On top of everything else, they'd been given a room.

One.

Singular.

To share as part of their cover identities.

It made him wonder who he'd pissed off at GAR Intel to land him this assignment before it occurred to him he'd never been intended to get it. Shaking the thought aside and bracing himself, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, her blue eyes azure pools of uncertainty as she echoed his words. "Our room?"

"We're sharing a room apparently," he told her with forced good humor, "as a part of our..."

She nodded with understanding when he didn't finish the sentence and looked away, biting her lip.

Rex found himself admiring the curve of her cheek, the way her teeth made her lip look that much fuller, riper than before, and had the strangest urge to replace her teeth with his own. He shook it off; they were here for a job, not idle flirtation and unwanted fantasy.

Looking around, he nodded towards a speeder-for-hire stand. "Let's go."

It didn't take them long to find their lodgings; a small suite on the top level of a two story building on the edge of the district where the cantinas were found. It looked more upscale than the dives further down but not, Rex was relieved to note, as posh as the buildings near the landing zone.

The trip to the room was quick; a single flight of old fashioned stairs leading to one of four electronically locked suites on the top level. Keying in the code on the datapad to the room they'd been assigned, Rex unlocked the doors and opened them, motioning Ahsoka inside.

As the doors closed behind them as Rex took it all in; a public room with chairs and no sofa. It also held two tables, one for meals with the accompanying dual, hard back and seat chairs, the other between two overstuffed arm chairs. All in all, it was furnished far too gaudy for his taste.

They exchanged looks; the room, for its entire haute coulter, screamed business.

Ahsoka, squaring her shoulders, led the way to the room at the back through a pair of closed double doors. She pushed them open - and stopped.

It was a bedroom.

The largest bedroom Rex had ever seen and his eyes widened as he drew to a stop behind her, not touching, but within distance to feel the energy radiating off her body.

Easily the size of the main room, the bedroom was done in a tasteful blue and red scheme that wasn't too hard on the eyes, gold inlaid in the embossing of the wall's designs. But it wasn't the walls or the red carpet that held his attention; it was the Torrent Company blue monstrosity of a bed that dominated the room.

On a slightly raised dais, four posters holding a canopy, it could have slept three of him easily. Covered in a mess of pillows and blankets, far more than any one or two people could ever need, it screamed decadence and his mind blanked for a moment as he tried to figure out what they would possibly need it for.

An image of the young woman before him sprang immediately to mind to fill the gap, tucked within the sheets, her bare shoulders visible as she smiled at him with the teasing, almost beckoning smile he loved to see on her-

"Rex?"

He blinked, the fantasy vanishing, and glanced down to find Ahsoka staring at him uncertainly. "Yes, Commander?"

"Ahsoka," she reminded him. "A slip like that, and we're both dead."

"Sorry, kid - Ahsoka," he shook his head to clear it. "Did you ask me something?"

"There's only the one bed; are we supposed to sleep in shifts?"

"After everything we've read, I suspect they expect us to share it."

She went still. "S-share?"

It stung she seemed so against the idea but he nodded. "Don't worry about it; I'll keep watch while you sleep and you can do the same for me."

"Ah..." she flushed, looking away, the color carrying through from her cheeks to her lekku, darkening the chevrons in a way that was more appealing than it should have been; it made him want to touch. "I... don't mind if you... if we... That is, we could share the bed; it's big enough."

Her color darkened further and Rex realized with a start she was embarrassed - and trying to apologize. "Why don't we figure out what comes next and-"

Ding!

They stared at one another and, to his relief, she began to chuckle. "The datapad?"

He nodded ruefully. "There's this rumor in the Legion you need only ask for something to get it, but this is the first time it's happened."

"What's it say?"

He pulled out the datapad. "Check the closet."

Ahsoka cocked her head, shrugged, and strode over to the armoire in the corner. With a quick flick, she opened the doors, the panels retracting into the wall - and they both stared.

Glitzy, glittery fabric practically poured from within, the light catching on sequins and gems, fabric so sheer you could see the one next to it and so soft Rex didn't need to feel it to know it would give him shivers. Shoes - if one could call them that - of each color of cloth sat neatly on the floor.

All but one pair, a large combat style boot, in black leather with silver buckles. These were below two black outfits, shirts and pants hung together, with a leather trench coat on the last hangar by the wall. If Rex didn't miss his guess, he spied a set of holsters strung on the same hangar and the faint bulge of blaster pistols within the leather fabric.

Their mission parameters had required they come unarmed and unarmored, dressed in typical civilian garb and without luggage; they'd done as instructed, though Rex knew it had pained her to leave her lightsaber behind. Just as it had gone against everything within him to leave his decees and armor, but he had done so. The plain brown shirts, pants and boots they both wore went well with the ponchos.

"I think these are mine," Ahsoka teased, pointing to the black outfits. "You'll look so sharp in..." she trailed off as she pulled a pale blue skirt off the line, her face freezing in shock. The fabric was almost sheer, a golden belt the waistband, and two wisps of cloth Rex couldn't call anything remotely resembling a shirt, dangling from the hangar.

Ahsoka dropped the hangar as if burned. "I can't..."

Her stricken expression hit him low in the gut, and Rex strode to where she was standing. Scooping the so-called outfit from the floor and setting it back in the closet before closing the door and turning to her. One more look at her face and he inwardly groaned, his voice gruff. "Come here."

She went willingly, sliding into his arms as he hugged her close. The moment his arms slid around her, he knew this was a bad idea. Even through the layers of fabric they both wore, she was in his arms without his armor; a sensation that would undoubtedly haunt him later as he revisited every touch, every sensation in the privacy of his mind. He forced himself to focus on the fact she doubted her role in the mission; questioned her ability to pull it off.

"You'll do fine, Ahsoka; we'll do fine," he squeezed her tightly before reluctantly setting her away to look down into her eyes, putting every ounce of his conviction in her abilities into his voice. "If we stick to the plan, we'll be better than fine. Don't think about wearing those clothes; think of them like... costumes," the inspiration struck from a story she'd once told him about customs, a right of passage that involved dressing up, from her home planet. "Costumes that can transform you into someone you're not."

"But still be the same person inside," she still looked shaken, but smiled. "I can't believe you remember that."

"I remember everything you tell me," he offered with a faint smile, letting her go and stepping back. "We'll get through this together. Let's see what we have to work with and we'll go from there, deal?"

She squared her shoulders, as he'd hoped, and nodded. "Deal."

Several minutes later, their search and the datapad's instructions ran dry, and they discovered they had about everything they expected. Ahsoka had determinedly pulled every outfit from the closet, including the black ones, to lay them on the bed.

In addition to the leather coat, a man's coat and obviously built for someone like Rex, she'd confirmed the existence of dual blaster pistols. Common DL-44s; not what he'd have chosen for himself, but common enough to not raise suspicions. If he had time, Rex knew he'd have to do some minor modifications; if nothing else, it would give him something to occupy his mind.

Ahsoka had found under things and adornments for the outfits, some of which he hadn't a clue what they were for, in the dresser beside the armoire and props for dances in a trunk tucked discreetly beside it. Additionally there had been something called cosmetics in an attached 'fresher that Ahsoka had seemed to know what to do with and a small, portable computer and scanner built into a wristband that Rex assumed was for him.

They laid everything they'd found out before staring at one another across the expanse of the sheets, Rex noting that Ahsoka looked more amused now than concerned. She proved it by cracking a joke.

"I don't know how often they expected me to entertain, but I think they might have gone a touch overboard; I'll never be able to wear all of these."

Thankfully, Rex agreed silently. There were more than a couple of the two dozen outfits he intended to veto right away. "It pays to have variety."

"I'll trade you," she offered. "I'd rather wear leathers anyway."

"Not a chance, kid; good as you'd look, I doubt the target's into that kind of thing."

She laughed. "Once you manage to get those on, Rexster," she nodded to the leather pants that went with his clothes, reaching out to run one finger down the length of the slick looking fabric, "you're going to be able to be classified as a lethal weapon; it's not me who's going to draw the attention."

"I think you underestimate the power of your allure." He returned dryly, "Trust me; once we're suited up, no one will be looking at me."

"Should we," she reached for one of the blue, less sheer outfits, her hand hesitating over it, "try this stuff on?"

Much as he wanted to say no, Rex knew it was a sound idea. "You first."

Ahsoka shook her head, drawing away from the bed with a jump as she snatched her hands behind her. "Oh no; I've got more than you to try on; you go first."

Seeing she needed the time, likely to gather her courage, Rex didn't fight her logic. He simply collected the leathers and retired to the 'fresher.

Ahsoka couldn't help but stare as Rex stepped out of the 'fresher several minutes later.

Gone was the dashing Clone Captain she was used to seeing in white; his familiar countenance was always inspiring, and dashing, when he went without his helmet. The man before her now was those things and more.

Her gaze dropped to the floor and the long, strong, bare toes that gripped the carpet as he turned partially, adjusting the fit.

Unable to help herself, her eyes traveled over the arch of his insoles to the hem of the leather that lovingly enclosed his ankles. Hanging loose there, and only there, they closed in over the muscles of his calves. The fabric caught the light as it dipped into the indent of his knees before stretching taut over his thighs and across his hips and-

She skirted the bulge at the front of his pants and instead feasted her eyes upon the faint outlines of a six pack of abdominal muscles that made her mouth go dry, the thin fabric of the t-shirt clinging to him lovingly, almost like a second skin - or the embrace of a lover. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the expanse of tanned skin where the shirt ended at his neck, the urge to suddenly nip-

"Ahsoka."

His muscles rippled and she flushed, feeling it clear to her toes, as he crossed his arms over his chest. Her gaze flew to his face as she registered belatedly he'd said her name - probably more than once.

"W-what?"

"I said; what do you think?"

Her jaw worked, biting her tongue on her first reaction, struggling to give him an honest answer that didn't involve a personal response that would freak him out. His appearance had calmed her nerves even as she'd apparently lost her ability to form basic sentences.

Rex looked… smoking hot.

"It's a good look for you," she finally settled on, knowing it was an understatement.

"Are they supposed to be this tight?"

Her breathing caught and she spun away, closing her eyes as she struggled against the image he'd presented, turning to go back into the 'fresher to collect something, and the image of his perfectly toned buttocks cupped with such loving detail within the leather seat. She gasped, near hyperventilating, admonishing herself sternly that this was Rex and he wouldn't appreciate her ogling him.

"Ahsoka?"

"Yes," the word squeaked out roughly and she was forced to clear her throat before trying again, her voice coming out more normal this time around. "Yes, Rex; I think they're supposed to be that way."

He said nothing and she dared to look behind her. Rex was standing in the door to the 'fresher with an unreadable look on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

Except she wasn't; it had just hit her that Rex was going to be wearing that temptation inducing outfit until the end of the mission. This was his costume, his cover; Rex in leather was going to be sitting next to her, across from her, sleeping with her-

"Ahsoka?"

A soft whimper escaped her, a slightly pained sound she just barely managed to throttle. "I'm fine," she reiterated, her voice sounding off even to herself; she'd never be fine again! How was she supposed to go back to the Resolute after this and go back to the way things had always been between her and Rex with the knowledge of that spectacular, perfect musculature under his armor? "Are you done?"

"Just let me change-"

"Uh-" much as she wanted him too, she knew he shouldn't. She coughed and choked, drawing his frown and Ahsoka shook her head. "You might as well get used to wearing 'em, Rexster; they're your uniform for however long it takes to find this guy."

He looked startled, glancing down at himself, and if she hadn't been so pained, would have found it comical. He looked like he was about to object before shaking his head and looking back her way thoughtfully. "My uniform, is it?"

Ahsoka nodded.

He disappeared into the 'fresher, giving her another look at his backside in leather - enough to make her gulp - before exiting with the clothing they'd worn coming into the city.

Then, suddenly, the 'fresher was empty and it was her turn. Ahsoka found her trepidation for trying on the costumes left for her had all but vanished, replaced by the need to knock Rex for a loop - as he'd done to her.

Or at least try.

Collecting the outfits with a determined sweep of her arm, she marched towards the 'fresher.

While Ahsoka was changing, Rex took the opportunity to hang the other set of clothes left to him, the nondescript brown outfit going next to it, near the back of the closet where the trench coat had been hanging. There was nothing else in the closet, except the shoes, and Rex took a moment to check the security.

It was something he should have done immediately, but thankfully, the scanner proved to be quiet.

The leather chaffed rather uncomfortably and, after casting a glance at the 'fresher door to ensure it was still closed, he put his back to it, undid them, and adjusted how they sat across his hips. It helped even as it tightened the fabric across his backside.

How did anyone wear this get up day to day? He shook his head. At least the shirt was comfortable. Turning back to the bed where the trench coat, holster and dual blaster still lay, Rex scooped one up with a critical eye, checking the charge on the power pack.

The sound of the door opening caught his attention but he didn't take his gaze off the blaster, popping out the power pack to check the alignment of the connector pins. "How's it fit?"

"Fine," she sounded amused. "Couldn't wait to play with your new toys, Captain?"

Something in Ahsoka's voice drew his gaze up to look her way and his eyebrows arched as he took in the most clothing he'd ever seen her in. Covered from neck to ankle, she looked a little like she was covered in a sheet - or rather, several sheets.

It took him a moment to figure out why, connecting the image before him with the videos they'd watched. "Veils?"

Ahsoka nodded, lifting one hand to display the veil that Rex guessed would likely sit across her face. "It was the first thing I grabbed," she told him with a smile, her tone turning teasing. "Should I show you my veil dance?"

"Later," he was looking forward to it. Aside from the fan dance, he felt it was the best of the videos they'd watched; sexy without being indecent. "What else did they give you?"

A quick succession of outfits, most like her normal, day to day wear, were paraded for him as he settled on the bed, stretching out to cross his ankles together as he kept his focus on the blaster pistols between displays. She was beautiful in her costumes, but, thankfully, nothing was more revealing than what she already wore daily. They talked as she changed, leaving the door to the 'fresher open and Rex keeping his head down.

"Rex?"

"Yes?" he adjusted the compensator within one of the DL-44s, tightening it with a couple flicks of his fingers to give the blaster's trigger more sensitivity.

"When are we hitting the cantina?"

"Tomorrow," there was no way he was going in ill rested with the parts they needed to play. "The intel says you'll need to audition for a spot on The Catalyst's nightly show."

"You do realize I've never done any of these dances before, right?"

He heard the shift in her voice as she stepped back into the bedroom. "Yes." He didn't see a problem with it though; she was graceful by nature. Dancing would be easy for her and torture for him. "What of it?"

"You don't see a problem with that?"

"No." Looking up, his gaze took in the gauzy, near sheer cloth that draped across her hips and thighs, a halter style golden top completing the outfit. She looked thoughtful, alerting him to the fact she had something on her mind. "Did you?"

She blew out an exasperated breath. "You wouldn't send a shiny into battle without basic training, Rex; how is this any different?"

"You're going to be dancing, Ahsoka; not pretending to be an acrobat in the middle of a war zone."

"And if I slip or mess up?" she placed her hands on her hips, cocking one in a pose that was as sexy as it was irritated and his gaze lingered for a moment longer than it should have before lifting to hers again. "We're… I'm only going to get one shot at this. The target's profile says he never goes for the same girl twice."

Pushing himself up, he placed his feet back on the floor, the broken down blaster on the bed all but forgotten with the unease churning in his gut. He didn't like where this was going even though he could see her logic. "If you can't get close, the blasters have a stun setting."

"If it were that easy, we wouldn't be here, Rex." Ahsoka looked grimmer, but more determined, than he'd ever seen as she turned back to the 'fresher. "I'm just going to have to find somewhere, and someone, I can practice with."

"Nu draar!" His harsh use of Mando'a drew her back around in surprise as he shot to his feet. "You're not going out there to-" he barely caught himself in time from saying something he shouldn't, somehow keeping his tone even, "-blow our cover while you try and get experience."

"You're the one who told me experience is everything!"

"Then if you have to practice, do it here."

"Here."

His gut tightened with anticipatory dread. Not one of his brighter ideas; he'd been trying to keep images of Ahsoka dancing from his brain since they'd watched those holos. Still, he'd put forward the idea and as tough as it would be for him personally, it would keep her safe – and that made it worth it. "We're secure here. If you mess it up, you can work on it until you don't."

"All of my dances?"

He nodded.

"Even the… the lap dance?"

"Even that one."

"I'm going to need someone to practice on Rex, are you sure it's okay?"

He would probably immolate from the friction, but he'd die mostly happy. "I'm sure."

"Then you can help me find someone to-"

"Me."

"What?"

"If you have to practice on someone," he told her flatly, tucking his hands into his back pockets and unintentionally stretching the leather that much tighter across his hips and groin, "practice on me."

She stared at him and that interesting flush of color he found so fascinating surged into the chevrons of her lekku and montrals and across her cheekbones. "Y-you don't have to do that for me, Rex."

He exhaled softly, her embarrassment mitigating some of the irritation he felt. "Yes I do. Practicing on anyone else will get our cover blown. If you need to practice on someone, it's me or no one."

Ahsoka visibly swallowed, her gaze dropping back to his pants for a heartbeat before darting away. "I... er... Thanks Rexster." She darted back towards the 'fresher, closing the door behind her, her "I appreciate it!" nearly throttled to silence through the barrier.

Rex got the sinking feeling he was going to regret this.

Ahsoka danced for him that night, showing off the routines she had in mind for a fan dance, which got him hot under the collar and made sitting a painful torture, and a veil dance that was sexy enough he thought he might embarrass himself.

He forced himself to analyze, to distance himself from the actual sensuous nature of the dance by retreating into his mind and thinking of her dances like a battle tactical map. The tactic worked, mostly, and in doing so he noted a few things.

Her body movements, for all they were exaggerated, looked familiar and the foot work and hand motions in each dance reminded him of her katas and lightsabre routines. When he said so, she cheekily explained that they were the basics for it.

Ahsoka's Master, of all people, had apparently told her that when lying, it was always better to add a touch of the truth to help keep it real. This lesson she had applied to her dancing; she knew her katas and lightsabre practice routines by heart; it only stood to reason they'd stand her in good stead now.

She'd also shown off a couple of the moves she could use for a floor routine and a pole dancing routine even though they didn't have one where she could practice.

They'd worked on each routine together, Rex offering pointers when she seemed to falter; things that had been in the holos, and even some things that hadn't. It had involved him getting up to dance with her at one point, which had helped ease the tension between them somewhat when she's wrapped a veil around him and used it for leverage to get him to participate. For all there were subtle, intense emotional waves vibrating from one to the other, he grudgingly admitted to having had fun.

Until she attempted to give him a lap dance.

Rex, high strung from the others and his desire to touch her, had pleaded exhaustion and made to retire, ending the night with a decisive 'No' and leaving her to take first watch.

He retired to the bedroom only to realize he'd brought nothing to sleep in. After a little searching, he'd turned up little to nothing. In the end, he'd take a vibroknife from the collection of weaponry he'd found in a drawer in the main room, and cut the legs off his traveling clothes.

After a cold shower, he settled on one side of the massive bed and folded his hands behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, still humming from the unspoken tension between himself and Ahsoka, despite the frigid dousing, he considered their next course of action.

Beyond the door, in the next room, he could hear her still moving around, the soft undertones of the music she'd selected audible and, surprisingly soothing despite the fact he found her routines playing over and over again in his mind.

Somewhere, between trying to plan for the following evening and Ahsoka's 'audition', and doing his best not to picture her in the other room, he drifted into slumber.